


Your Name

by Originia



Category: Senyuu.
Genre: Gen, Pre-Season 1, alba asks the big questions, alba is perceptive, could be inline with canon, could be slightly au, i really have no idea how to properly do tags, ross doesn't quite manage the aloofness he'd like to think he has, ross gets dragged into a conversation, someone help me, spoilers for volume 2 kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:46:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2736476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Originia/pseuds/Originia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Your name isn't really Ross, is it?"</p>
<p>Alba and Ross have known each other for a couple months at best, only having just started their journey as hero and soldier. But Alba, as Ross comes to realize, is a bit more perceptive than he first gave him credit for.</p>
<p>(In which Alba presses just a bit too far and Ross reveals more than he really would have liked.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Name

**Author's Note:**

> Oh gosh, this took forever to finish. I've probably been sitting on this story for over two months now, and I just couldn't seem to find a good end to it. I really hope it came out okay, though. 
> 
> Nevertheless, I really really like this headcanon, because I truly think that Alba is way more perceptive than people give him credit for. And given that Ross only took the name Ross right after meeting Alba pre-season 1, it's only logical to assume that he might have had a few slip ups here and there trying to get accustomed to it. I feel as if Alba probably noticed some of those slip ups, and well, this story happened.

“Your name isn't really Ross, is it?"

Ross blinked, then looked up over the small burning campfire to where the hero sat, dimly lit from the flickering flames against the dark of night. Alba wasn't looking in his direction, his chin tucked low and face obscured in soft shadows. Had Ross not clearly heard the words breaking the silence of their tiny clearing, he would have assumed the hero was asleep.

Ross considered not answering. The question had been abrupt – uncalled for, really – and despite Alba's rather accurate assumption, Ross didn't want to reward the boy by giving him an answer, lie or not.

He figured he would ignore him, like usual, and the moment would pass.

And yet, somehow, despite this decision, he found himself talking aloud in the darkened clearing.

"What makes you say that, hero?" It tumbled out without any real intention, and without the usual snark Ross liked to put into his words.

At the sound of the question, Alba leaned forwards, out from the shadows. The fire's warm glow illuminated the curves and lines of his face.

Ross saw the raised brows and curious eyes. Alba was surprised. 

The boy hadn't actually expected him to answer. Belatedly, Ross realized that by doing exactly that, he had opened himself up to more questions. It was not exactly the situation he wanted to be in. 

“Something wrong, hero?" he pressed dryly. "I wouldn’t have thought such a simple question would make you lost for words. Do you need me to repeat myself?”

Alba’s eyebrows lowered, face donning a frown to match Ross’ own. “No. That’s not–” He bit back his words and started again. “So your name really isn’t Ross then, is it?”

The corner of Ross’ mouth twitched downwards. “I never said that.”

“But I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You’re very rarely right about anything.”

Alba was silent for a moment, looking over the crackling flames, gaze still curious. “We’ve been travelling for two months together,” he began, not seeming fazed by Ross’ short, unrevealing replies. “And it feels as if I've told you basically everything about me–”

Ross rolled his eyes. “There isn’t much to tell.”

“Yeah, fine. Very funny." A soft gust of wind ruffled Alba's bangs, and as the fire flickered and grew, he brought a hand up to draw the stray strands of hair back from his face. "But it’s just that I don’t really know anything about you, do I? Nothing more than just..." He gestured vaguely towards Ross from across the clearing. "Just this. This 'soldier Ross' thing you've got going on."

Ross leaned back, expression impassive. “I think you're being a bit rude, hero. This is not some part that I'm playing." But it was. That's exactly what it was. A role he had taken to pass the time. But Alba didn't need to know that. "And even if it was," he continued, "why do you care? Does it really bother you that much?"

Alba didn't bat an eye. “It doesn't, really. I think." He shrugged offhandedly. "I just thought- I noticed, I guess. That this couldn't have been who you always were. You..." He paused for a moment, seeming to think. "You don't know enough about the kingdom to have been a soldier long, and just... From what I've noticed, you surely couldn't have always used the name 'Ross'."

Ross blinked a few times, somewhat fazed that his ruse had been so easily seen through. "And why are you so certain of that?"

"Well, it's just... it's been kinda obvious," Alba started bluntly, and Ross felt a frown once again pulling at his features. "The fact that it's not your actual name, I mean. Not that it really matters or anything. You just don't, I don't know, _react_ properly. I don't think anybody else has noticed yet, really. I wasn't even all that certain about it at first, either." The younger boy leaned forwards, resting his chin on his upturned hand. Ross wanted to to cut in right then and there, to stop the boy from his annoyingly accurate perceptions, but he held his tongue. There was something telling him to let Alba finish. 

"But it's like you forget sometimes," Alba continued, a small frown pulling at his brow. "That it's supposed to be _your_ name. Instead it's as if you're looking around for someone else. There's like that moment where you seem like a different person. You look kinda lost." The flames suddenly jumped higher into the night, a flurry of ash and sparks accompanying the snap and pop of burning wood. 

For a brief moment, framed by the light of the fire, it looked as if Alba's eyes were a bright, vibrant red.

Ross flinched, hand instinctively finding his sword. Alba caught the unwarranted motion and froze, gaze wide and staring. His voice, soft and just a little bit wary, carried across the clearing as Ross' hand closed around the hilt. 

"Soldier...?"

Alba's voice. Not Rchimedes. Not Crea.

Ross stilled, mind still buzzing from the unwanted rush of adrenaline. A moment passed before he released the sword's handle, pulling his hand bank rather abruptly. His fingers curled painfully into his palm, nails biting at the skin. Alba stared. 

Ross held the gaze a second longer before turning his sights to the ground. The change of focus helped dispel the afterimage of another, different red-eyed boy, but the tense atmosphere remained. Ross heard Alba shift positions across the campsite, the soft crunch of dead leaves making itself heard over the persistent cackle of fire. It was the only warning he had before the hero spoke again. 

"Um, a-are you okay?" 

Ross wanted to hit something. 

"No," came his surprisingly honest reply. It wasn't the answer he had intended on giving, but it was too late now. His gaze flicked upwards and Alba stilled, meeting his stare, seeming afraid to move. It would have been funny, Ross thought, had the situation been different. "No, I'm not okay. You're annoying me." He looked out into the trees and the darkness, unable to muster up the appropriately dismissive sneer to accompany his words. "You and your questions and your voice and your eyes. God, it's like you're _asking_ for trouble."

Alba's expression turned a tad self-conscious, but his gaze didn't waver. Ross was certain the boy would continue to prod, demanding to know what had just happened, pressing with his too-accurate questions. And it _was_ annoying, Ross thought, the way the hero could be so persistent, the way he could brush off Ross' scathing remarks and threats with little to no effort, the way he actually seemed to _care_. It was annoying, but when all Alba did in response was to furrow his brow and offer a quiet, "Sorry, I... I'll stop now," Ross found himself feeling inexplicably disappointed. 

Perhaps here was someone who maybe, just maybe, he could talk to -- _actually_ talk to -- and who would try and understand. Ross didn't know what that meant, really, and he didn't know if it was even what he wanted, but the night was late, and he was tired. Why the hell not give Alba something in reward for his persistence. 

Chest feeling a bit tight, and nerves somewhat high-strung, Ross forced his eyes back to where the hero rested. 

"It's not," he said abruptly, surprising even himself. Alba jumped where he sat, eyes just a bit too wide. "My name," Ross continued after a moment. "Ross. It's not actually my name. You're right. For once."

The fire was starting to burn low, wood softly cracking into spent, blackened ash. Ross could just barely see Alba blinking in surprise. "Oh," the boy replied. He was quiet for another moment until, "Oh, okay. Right."

That was all he said.

Ross didn't know what kind of reaction he was expecting, but that soft, subdued "okay, right," was not it. 

He bristled. "That's it?" he found himself pressing scathingly. "All that build up and that's your reply? Where are the questions? The annoying deductions? Aren't you going to try and press me for my life story?" He gestured blindly into the night, some long-repressed bitterness making its way into his voice as words continued to escape unfiltered through his lips. "Ask me about me tragic past? How I got here? The reason why I keep changing my name? Is that really it? You really can't follow anything through to the end, can you, hero?"

Alba didn't move, he just stared. 

The following silence was nearly suffocating. 

Gritting his teeth together, Ross turned to face a patch of dense trees just outside the glowing ring of light that illuminated their tiny clearing. He already regretted the outburst. What was he thinking, exploding like that? Why did he go and make this something bigger than it needed to be? Alba still hadn't said a word in response, and Ross knew that the boy's wide-eyed gaze had to be trained speechlessly on him. 

The desire to hit something returned with a vengeance. 

"You... you don't need to reply to all that," Ross bit out through clenched teeth, words carefully devoid of emotion. "Just forget it. I didn't... I didn't _actually_ mean any of what I said, got it? It was a joke." 

The trees around them rustled with a soft wind. The fire was close to dead, only a few, bravely flickering flames clinging to exhausted wood. 

Finally, Alba spoke. "I... uh, wow. Okay. Um, you're not going to be angry if I say I don't believe you, right? Because, well, I really, _really_ don't think this is a joke. And I'm actually trying really hard to find something to say, but I can't... I guess I didn't really think this one though." His eyes flitted about the darkening clearing as he huffed out a short, uncertain laugh. "I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything."

Ross didn't turn back to face Alba, but he knew the hero was probably sporting a small frown. Ross himself was just trying to maintain an impassive glare towards the trees -- he didn't even want to try facing the younger boy yet. He was struggling to find a way to fix his massive slip-up, and honestly he was hoping that the rest of the night could just be spent in silence. 

It would be easier come morning to play it all off unimportant, to pretend as if nothing had happened.

Alba looked down at his hands. He then spoke up, shattering that ideal. 

"This is actually pretty important to you, isn't it?"

Ross stiffened, gaze still directed outwards into the darkness, no longer really seeing. These were _exactly_ the kind of questions he had wanted to avoid. 

"You don't know what you're talking about, hero," Ross managed to reply in a dry, clipped tone. 

And really, he was right. It didn't matter that Alba was spot on with his comment -- that he'd been spot on for basically the entirety of this conversation -- the boy truly didn't know what he was talking about. He probably still thought it was some foolish little quirk that Ross had, some issue with his birth name or the like, he he really truly couldn't have been more wrong. 

He waited for Alba's response, anticipating another pressing question, hoping for silence. 

Instead he seemed to get a strange kind of understanding. 

"You're right," Alba replied. "I don't know. I really, _really_ don't know. And that's okay. I think." There was a bit of a questioning look in his eye, but Ross could tell that it was only because Alba was trying to make sure he was saying right thing. The boy could have just as easily turned away from the conversation, save himself from having to tip-toe around like he was, but instead he donned a determined expression and continued. "But I'm pretty sure that whatever this is, it's kind of important to you, so I'm going to stop trying to make assumptions because I know that I'll probably just get them wrong. I'm okay with not knowing. Though I don't really know what I'll do about your actual name now... I guess just 'soldier' will work, right? It has so far."

Ross nearly felt dizzy. The boy was actually worried about how to address him now? After all that had happened this night, _this_ was what Alba had decided was important? 

"Why are you trying so hard?" The question slipped out, unintentional and completely honest. 

Alba paused, and then had the gall to look almost insulted. "I, uh, well..." He frowned, expression morphing into a kind of uncertainty. "It's just... is it a bad thing to care? I don't- I wanna make sure that I call you the right thing. Because this is important. To you." His gaze turned downcast, awkwardness seeping in to his voice. "I want to make sure I get it right, _now_ , so I won't mess up later. I'm sorry if... If you don't want to say anything that's fine, I'll just... it's okay."

And Ross, sitting there staring at Alba, watching the boy _trying_ when he really shouldn't have cared at all, realized he had an answer. 

"It's Ross," he said simply, a response to all of Alba's uncertain half-questions. "Ross is my name. That's what you can call me. That's what I _want_ you to call me." Alba blinked once, looking up, then held his gaze evenly, the barest hints of a smile touching his lips. Ross paused, Alba's approval giving him a strange sort of confidence, before continuing. "I don't care what you might think of it, but I can promise that if you ever mention anything to anyone that I will hit you so hard you won't even remember your own name let alone what mine is or isn't supposed to be." He strived to keep his expression blank and his voice rightly scornful. "So... Ross. That's fine, got it?"

Alba gave a small nod. "Yes. Ross. I got it."

"Good." The word was short, but not unkind, and in the following silence Ross felt his muscles finally start to relax. There were plenty of other unanswered questions hanging in the air between them, but it was as if they had been pushed away for a later day. Not forgotten, not ignored, just acknowledged and then moved aside. 

And in their wake a calm remained.

A few moments later, the stillness of the night was broken one last time. "And uh, Ross... Thank you."

Letting the words wash over him, Ross allowed his eyes to close. He wasn't going to reply to them, but he figured Alba would understand. It seemed as if the boy was surprisingly good at understanding. 

In the darkness, Alba smiled.


End file.
